


Paper Faces On Parade

by Originalpuck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Originalpuck/pseuds/Originalpuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione attends the first Ministry event that she’s ever seen end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Faces On Parade

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song ‘Masquerade’ from Phantom of the Opera. 
> 
> My wife made a beautiful fan art for it [here](http://zombieannamilton.tumblr.com/post/149911508153/fleurmione-fan-art-that-was-the-inspiration-for).

Hermione had been to a Ball before, sure, so she wasn’t sure why she was hesitant to attend another. But Harry was insisting that the Yule Ball didn’t count, and that this Ministry Ball would be good for them. It would be the first big Ministry-held Ball since Voldemort’s death, and Harry was the guest of honor. So he insisted that Hermione and Ron come, too. After all, they were important parts of Voldemort’s demise, and besides, if he had to be miserable, so did they.

So Hermione had insisted that they all spend time learning to dance better before attending, and that they all had good costumes for the Masquerade Ball. “Maybe you’ll even find someone else to date,” Harry had reassured Ron, after Hermione had broken up with him. “You never know, and everyone’s wearing masks, so there won’t be any pressure.” To be honest, it sounded like Harry was attempting to reassure himself, but Hermione didn’t point that out.

She had decided on a light blue gown, a shade she knew she looked good in. Finding a mask had been harder. She had pushed back her mess of curls a little, using a braided hair crown to keep it out of her face. And then her mask was highlighted with images of stars, her mask as astronomically correct as possible, as it curved around her face.

She had to admit that it might be fun to get away from all of the pressure she’d been dealing with since the fall of Voldemort. There were still loyalists to find, and others to take care of. And on top of that, there were relationships falling apart and friendships being tested.

Bill and Fleur had divorced, Ron and Hermione had broken up, and Harry and Draco were finding it harder to stick it out once Draco’s father was sentenced to a year in Azkaban, despite Draco and Narcissa’s aid during the War.

This was just supposed to be relaxing, fun, and dancing. Hermione tried conversing lightly with people about the weather, new books, and the latest news on the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes re-opening. George had said he would keep it open in Fred’s honor, but nothing had happened as of yet.

It wasn’t really until a woman came walking into the ballroom that most conversation stopped. Most men and some women turned to look at her, to stare. The woman had her blonde hair in a twist, and was wearing a mask with real flowers pouring off of it on one side, and an enchanted and moving butterfly on the other. Her dress was satin, and purple, with the same flowers flowing down one shoulder.

Even Hermione had to admit that she looked beautiful. Still, she was a bit indignant when the woman she had been dancing with drifted away and towards the woman’s side, along with several of her admirers.

Hermione couldn’t tell, because of her mask, but she wondered how the woman felt about all of the attention. She had arrived late, after all, and everyone knows that you only arrive late if you want extra attention. Or, Hermione supposed, if you wanted to avoid it.

Either way she huffed and left the dance floor to grab a small flute of Champagne, and was partly through picking out a truffle when the woman with the admirers came over towards Hermione. She turned her head and smiled at her. “Quite the ball, no?”

And then it hit Hermione like a train. Fleur. Of course.

“I feel like I’m being tested whenever someone asks me to dance.” Hermione shrugged. “They either ask me for the gritty details that are none of their business, or try to discuss politics, which never ends well.” She smiled a little. “Some were interesting, though. New book discussions were entertaining. Of course, if it went back towards politics, it lost its light and airy feel.”

“Ah yes, your crusade to help the House Elves.” Fleur’s lips quirked. “I’m sure that has gone over well.”

“It’s a shame. I do like to dance, and …” Hermione trailed off when she saw Fleur looking her over, with almost as much intensity as her admirers were staring at Fleur.

“I am free to dance, if you would like,” Fleur said. She sat down her drink and held her hand out for Hermione.

Hermione swallowed. After a few seconds of looking at her hand, and then looking Fleur over - and she was beautiful - before setting down her drink and taking the woman’s hand.

She was an excellent dancer, and she even laughed a pleasant laugh, ensuring Hermione she thought it was adorable when Hermione misstepped. She had never gotten to laugh about it with Ron, and she found it was actually more fun dancing with someone who could make her laugh, and talk about something other than politics, the war, and death.

Which was why, as they broke apart for a dessert, that Hermione started to berate herself. But she had to know. “Fleur,” she started, and the woman murmured a ‘hmm?’ as she looked over the tray of tarts and cakes with a scrunched nose. Or, at least, Hermione assumed it was scrunched under her mask, by the way her lips looked pinched. “How come I’m not blinded by you, like Ron and the others?”

Fleur looked up, and Hermione could see the blush seeping out from the sides of her mask. “It is because you are special,” Fleur said. She looked Hermione in the eyes and then looked away.

“Special how?” Hermione insisted.

“Our mates are immune to our charm,” Fleur said, picking out a raspberry tart. She seemed to force herself to look up, her head held high. “And I’ve realized that you are my mate.”

Hermione stood there, feeling rooted to the spot. “What?”

“When you came to the Cottage, during the war. We talked, and I helped you heal, and I felt myself hurting the same way you were. Veela mates tend to get the same wounds as their partners, and I’d realized that night that I had the same marks as you.”

“Your bandages.” Hermione hadn’t thought much about it at the time, Fleur brushing it off, but now that she looked back, she realized they were in near-identical spots.

“Is that why you broke up with Bill?” Hermione asked. She had tried to keep her voice steady, but it had lowered a tad to a stage whisper. She wanted to rip off her own mask, and Fleur’s so that they could have this conversation in something other than through flowers and stars.

“Yes,” Fleur said. It was a simple answer to a simple question, and Hermione frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me before now? It’s been over a year!”

“I wanted to wait for the perfect time. It’s not easy to tell the one you will love forever that you are bound to them.” Fleur’s voice had broken at the end, and she looked away again. “Especially when that mate can tell them no and move on, but a Veela’s heart will always belong to her mate.”

“Forever?” Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded just as there was a big announcement, the chiming of the clock loudly striking midnight. “It’s time to remove our masks, everyone!” Kingsley Shacklebolt said. He punctuated it by throwing off his own, letting the orange and purple mask fly into the air above them.

A cheer let out and masks went flying every which way, hitting people in the head and revealing all sorts of odd couples. Ginny and Pansy, for instance.

Fleur raised her hands to untie her own, when Hermione was struck with a sudden urge. “Can I take it off?”

“Veela only let their mates and other Veela touch their hair,” Fleur said. Still, Fleur’s hands dropped from her hair, and, with an intense look at her Hermione, she took a deep breath and nodded. Hermione also took a deep breath before urging Fleur to turn around. She stood on her tiptoes to be slightly taller, and able to see all of Fleur’s hair.

While she was very skillful with her wand, Hermione found the elaborate way Fleur had pinned the mask to her head to be downright exasperating. After several rounds of hairpins being removed, she was finally able to untie the ribbons and removed it from Fleur’s face.

She was smiling when she turned to look at Hermione, a bright smile that Hermione realized she rarely got to see on the woman. It was dazzling, without being too much. Fleur seemed comfortable, and maybe that was part of what she saw in the smile.

“Is it alright if I take your mask off?” Fleur asked. Hermione shrugged and nodded, smiling as boldly as she dared.

She turned around, and Fleur nimbly removed it from her curls and undid the ribbons in two smooth motions. Hermione spun around and smiled. But Fleur was closer than she anticipated, and she accidentally spun right into her.

She laughed, and Fleur joined her, before she took both of the masks and flung them in the air. “So, Hermione, would you accept my invitation to dinner sometime?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. And then, uncertain who had started it, they were kissing with all the passion that Hermione had dreamt of. She pulled away slowly, and then smiled. “By that time I’m sure I can read all about a Veela’s mating rules,” she said.

Fleur smiled and nodded. She looked like she was about to say something when Ron arrived by her side. “I reckon we can sneak out now. Or, at least, Harry’s going to.”

It was Ron, of course, who interrupted their conversation. Hermione flashed Fleur an apologetic smile, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Ron stared, and she ignored him as she looked for Harry in the ballroom, trying to find him and follow his escape route as quickly, and smoothly, as possible.


End file.
